


sweet creature, sweet creature

by getmean



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, leon is hot elliot is stressed, mechanic/biker au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getmean/pseuds/getmean
Summary: There was indeed a guy out the back, crouched by a half-constructed bike that looked like it had seen, or would be soon seeing, better days. The red bandana was stuck in the back pocket of some distressingly low slung jeans, and Elliot stood back in dumb silence for a second before he could conjure his voice.“Hey,” He said, a little croaky. “I gotta talk to you about my car?”





	sweet creature, sweet creature

So, it happened like this: Elliot was having a no good day to start. The dishwasher broke halfway through a cycle, effectively flooding his kitchen and by extension his bedroom, living room and bathroom. Yes, they were all in the same room, and yes Elliot couldn’t afford another one. Halfway through mopping up _that_ mess, his little mutt of a dog, Flipper, pissed on his pillow and then preceded to step in the water and get it all over any remaining dry parts of his apartment. He was fairly certain one of his computers was fried beyond repair, but that was his fault for leaving it in pieces on the kitchen floor after taking it apart late the night before. But the remaining fact was: no man should have to know just how dirty lino got after three weeks of being alternately too depressed or too busy to mop.

The final nail in the metaphorical coffin of his day was coming out to the curb, jeans still damp from his run in with the soberingly dirty linoleum, to find his piece of shit car unwilling to start. He thumped the steering wheel, adjusted the pipe cleaner holding the heating vent together, did everything he could think of but the engine was resolute in its stuttering final gasps.

Here was the thing: Elliot was a genius at anything that involved a motherboard. He had built his own computer at the age of eleven, and had only gotten better at it since then. But when it came to mechanics, it just didn’t compute. He even tried opening up the hood to peer down into the mass of metal and wires in there, but no part of him knew what was going on, really. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, and sat on his stoop with a cigarette to brood for a minute. So, he had work in twenty minutes, but Angela would definitely cover for him because she always immediately assumed the worst whenever he was late. Being a vaguely medicated sometimes nutcase had its perks. He inhaled harshly on his smoke.

He’d have to get it towed. That was thirty bucks he couldn’t spare, especially since his dishwasher had finally given up the ghost, but his car was too important. He didn’t even want to consider how much it’d cost to fix. The car hadn’t seen the inside of a garage since it was _made_ , probably, and that’s what made it perfect. Rusty, tired, and slow to start, just like him. 

He ground out his cigarette butt under his heel, and stood. God, the things you do for love. 

\----

Riding in the tow truck didn’t have the same childish excitement it had had for him in the past. Instead, he was vaguely pissed off, mostly concerned for his bank account, and attempting to keep up with the conversation the driver was throwing his way. Elliot had never been one for conversation, especially when it was being flung at him like a particularly rapid fire round of twenty questions. 

Besides, the guy had laughed when he’d seen Elliot’s car, and Elliot had been known to hold grudges for a lot less. Sure, it was more rust than the red it had used to be, but it got him places and even had a tape deck. Practically perfect.

Fuck, he was tired. He’d gotten fixated on taking apart an old computer he’d found cheap online, and had only resurfaced when dawn started to light his kitchen slash living room slash bedroom the watery grey of late nights and regret. 

The driver was still talking, something about bulldogs, and Elliot pulled his hoodie over his head and eyed his car in the rear view as they drove.

The shop was one his dad used to go to, back when he was alive and before he’d instilled the belief in beat up inconspicuous cars in him. Or maybe that was all Elliot: it sure helped with delusions to get into a shitty car that no one in their right mind would tail.

“Can I smoke?” He asked, and the lady behind the counter just arched a neat eyebrow at him. A cigarette was burning down between her fingers, and he nodded once, jerky and awkward. “Right.” 

“Go on back and speak to Leon about the car.” She said, after she’d watched him light up and exhale into the dingy front room of the shop. She looked so out of place in the weary fluorescent lighting that Elliot felt his interest pique. He tapped his fingers on the outside of his thigh, suppressing the urge to look her up. “I don’t have all day.” She prompted, and Elliot caught the flash of a delicate wristwatch. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, stepped forward to ash into the ashtray by her elbow.

“Leon?” He asked, and she jabbed her thumb in the direction of a door leading out into the garage. 

“Red bandana.” 

“Right.” He said, again, and ducked his head once in some weird half-bow that he spent the walk across the shop floor regretting. “Red bandana.” He muttered, and scanned the group of men milling around in a vaguely anxiety-inducing knot before dismissing it. 

“Who ya looking for?” One called across to him, and Elliot had to swallow twice and avert his eyes before he could reply.

“Leon?” His voice came out thin, and he cursed it with eyes to the stained concrete floor.

“He’s outside.” The same man who’d spoken to him before was pointing towards the large open door towards the back of the shop floor. “You got the rustbucket?” He asked, and the other men laughed. Skin crawling, Elliot ducked his head and made a beeline for the exit, cigarette in his mouth like a lifeline.

There was indeed a guy out the back, crouched by a half-constructed bike that looked like it had seen, or would be soon seeing, better days. The red bandana was stuck in the back pocket of some distressingly low slung jeans, and Elliot stood back in dumb silence for a second before he could conjure his voice.

“Hey,” He said, a little croaky. “I gotta talk to you about my car?”

The guy turned around, caught the body of the bike for balance, and Elliot felt his heart drop into his stomach. 

Alright, so the bandana in the back pocket/nice ass combo was a real pick me up after the stressful morning he’d had. But the white wifebeater streaked with oil and dipping away from his chest _just so_ , the full curve of his mouth, dark eyes against dark dreads...it was overkill, really. Elliot’s already frazzled brain was fried. 

He gaped, stupidly, but fortunately the guy seemed to have all his senses intact because he flashed a grin his way and stood, wiping off his dirty hands on his thighs. Elliot’s gaze followed, and he swallowed. God, his ears were red, he could feel it, Jesus.

“Hey, cuz, you got the old red car?” He asked, and Elliot’s eyes slid down the long line of his body, skinny legs and big boots and wiry, lean forearms, cataloguing. Nose piercing. _Christ_. “I’d shake your hand, but.” He shrugged, and raised his hands as explanation. 

Elliot thought, _cover me in handprints._ Out loud, he said, “No problem.” His voice sounded distant even to him, and he attempted to reign in back in. _Fuck_ , he really couldn’t stop staring at the space below Leon’s gold necklace and above the low cut of his vest. “Yeah, the car’s mine.”

“Cool, cool.” Leon turned away to squint at the car, and Elliot mapped the curve of his waist and his broad shoulders, the little metal beads in his dreads. “Yeah, dude, let’s get into it.”

Elliot took a drag off his cigarette to calm himself, and followed Leon as he led him back inside. The gang of men had broken up, and Leon’s presence was settling him into something less anxious, so Elliot lowered his hood. Leon caught him in the middle of smoothing his hair down, and his grin was so big that Elliot felt his mouth twitch in an answering smile. 

“What’s your name?” Leon asked, and Elliot barely even stumbled over it as he told him. Leon nodded, real slow, like he was filing it away for safekeeping. “Elliot, huh? ‘S cute.”

Elliot quickly reclassified the day as not the worst day of his life but inching closer to what he could consider the _best_. Leon smirked at him, and then popped the hood of his poor car and ducked inside. Elliot ground his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and watched Leon’s red bandana as he did so.

“Oh, yeah.” Leon’s came muffled past the hood. “She’s busted.” He emerged, dreads in disarray, and full mouth twisted sympathetically. “I don’t know how the fuck you were driving this thing around before today, dude.”

“Force of my own hope, I think.” Elliot muttered, and Leon tipped his head back and laughed like Elliot had said the funniest thing ever. Elliot stared, quietly confused and silently turned on.

“That’d have to be it.” Leon said, amused, and began ticking off everything that was wrong with Elliot’s car on his fingers. Elliot tuned out once he had to start over on his fingers anew. He could practically hear his bank account deflating. Looked like he’d be prioritising Flipper’s meals for a little while yet. “So basically, I’d buy a new car.” Leon finished, and tapped one big, oil stained hand on the hood. “She’s gone.”

“You sure?” Elliot asked, thinking about his tape deck, the way he’d _just_ gotten the vents to blow warm air in his face _just right_. 

“Like I said, I dunno how it only died on you now.” Leon pulled a face and shrugged, and Elliot clenched his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he realised just how fucked he was. His fucking _car_ , man. This was some leftover bad karma from when he told Darlene he had quit smoking and then continued to do it behind her back. He tuned back in to catch the end of what Leon was saying. “-fix it, but it’d be cheaper just to buy a second hand car. Hey, you good?”

Elliot’s hands were in his hair. He knew that. His face was tucked between his elbows, which he also registered very dimly, but he was a little blurry on when exactly he had fallen into a crouch against the dented door of his goddamn _dead_ car. His breath was caught somewhere between his diaphragm and the sudden and overwhelming pit of dread that had opened up at some point. Absently, he had the good grace to be appropriately embarrassed at such a hot guy seeing him freak out. “Yeah.” He said, firmly like he was convincing himself of that too. “Gimme a minute,” and when Leon dropped into a crouch opposite him he muttered, “Don’t touch me.”

“I wasn’t gonna.” Leon said mildly, and Elliot didn’t reply.

It wasn’t a panic attack, not yet, and Elliot was determined that it wouldn’t become one either. Just because his piece of shit car was _gone_ and he’d have to-

“I gotta get to work.” He mumbled, and raised his face just enough to bury it in his palms. “I can’t take the _bus_.”

“Hey,” Leon said, gentle, and Elliot screwed his eyes shut behind the safety of his hands. And to think he wondered why he was single. “Let’s step outside.”

Elliot breathed out slow, and then nodded. “Okay.”

He lit a cigarette as soon as he stepped into the daylight, fetched up against the wall of the shop and then let gravity do exactly what it did best. Leon took a seat next to him, wrists propped on his knees and dirty hands hanging between them. Elliot exhaled a cloud of smoke and watched him rub at his knuckles.

“So you ain’t got the funds for a new ride?” Leon asked, eventually, and Elliot shook his head. “Bad time for the rustbucket to die, huh?” He asked, voice a little playful, and despite himself Elliot snorted, hid a grudging half smile behind his cigarette.

“Yeah.” He ashed on the ground between his sneakers. “Not good timing.”

Leon hummed, tipped his head back against the concrete wall as he seemed to contemplate something. There was a little crease between his brows, and Elliot was struck by how badly he wanted to smooth it out with his thumb. He took a harsh drag off his cigarette, reminded himself to keep his hands to himself.

“I could give you a ride to work.” Leon said finally, turning to look at Elliot so quick he caught him gazing at his profile. Elliot felt himself colour, and the corner of Leon’s mouth stretched into a smirk. “How about that?”

Elliot stared. “Why?” He asked, suspicious, and Leon’s smile grew.

“Because I wanna help you out, dude. I owe you for delivering that bad news anyways.” His expression was open, vaguely amused, and Elliot searched it for any ulterior motive before finding none. “C’mon,” Leon added. “I promise I won’t kidnap you.”

_Please do_ , Elliot thought, and then buried that thought down quick. Panic was still tugging in his chest, just enough that he knew if he took the bus he’d definitely freak out in public. _Again_. So, he nodded, embarrassed, and bit the inside of his cheek as Leon’s smile widened. 

“Sweet,” Leon said, and stood with a grunt. “Lemme wash up and grab a spare helmet and I’ll white knight you downtown.”

Wait, what?

“Did you just say helmet?” He called after Leon’s retreating back, and he half-turned, threw a bright grin Elliot’s way. 

“Yeah, man.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and Elliot allowed himself a moment to admire the long muscles of his biceps. He’d had a rough day after all. “Gonna take my bike.”

“Your _bike_?” Elliot said, but Leon had already disappeared inside the building, leaving Elliot to sit there and wonder just how scandalised Angela was going to be when he finally turned up at work on a _motorbike_. He was predicting that she’d be pretty fucking scandalised, but mostly glad he was in one piece. He didn’t have to check his phone to know that she’d left him a dozen messages already. 

Leon reappeared with cleaner hands and a helmet, which he handed off to Elliot with a grin. “Not this one,” He said, and gestured towards the skeleton of a bike he’d been working on earlier. “She’s a little deconstructed right now. My one’s ‘round the front.”

Elliot noted the leather jacket Leon had slung on, but didn’t mention it because he was afraid of choking on his words. Surreptitiously, he wiped his palms on his jeans. God. He wasn’t sure his panicky high heart rate would handle this. 

Leon’s bike was black, nothing flashy but sleek and shiny enough that Elliot could tell Leon spent a lot of time on it. He flicked his cigarette butt away as they approached it: Leon relaxed, arms loose at his sides and that big, captivating grin on his face, Elliot all hunched into himself like he could spare himself the coming embarrassment slash deep seated fantasy.

“Are you sure your boss is fine with this?” He asked, eyes on the long lines of the bike. It looked _fast_ , dangerous. The kind of adrenaline kick he’d been denying himself since he got clean. His fingers twitched at the thought of it.

“Yeah, as long as I’m not late back.” He tossed his dreads out of his face with a flick of his head, and pulled the helmet he’d had stashed under the seat over his head. Elliot quickly followed suit, the tight fit oddly comforting in the way someone lying on top of you was. “Where d’you work?” Leon asked, voice muffled as he dug in the pocket of his jacket for keys.

“Allsafe.” Elliot said, watching as Leon slung one long leg over the bike and sat back. Elliot had never considered himself a person who thought motorbikes were fundamentally _hot_ , but he was beginning to reconsider it. 

“Oh, word? You’re a computer genius then, huh?” Elliot could hear his smile better than he could see it, and he felt the corner of his mouth quirk in response. 

“Sure.” He said, and at the tilt of Leon’s head he settled himself behind him on the bike. 

He hadn’t really thought this far ahead, hadn’t considered the fact that he’d have to _touch_ Leon in order to not go flying off the back of the bike. His hands hovered in the air, and Leon turned his head a little, eyes amused behind his visor.

“Hold on tight, cuz. I like to drive fast.”

Elliot swallowed, and gingerly placed his hands on Leon’s waist. He thanked God for the barrier of Leon’s heavy leather jacket, because putting his hands on Leon’s slim waist with only that white wifebeater between them would have been the end of him for sure.

Then the bike kicked into life, and Elliot forgot all about the steady crush he was nursing as he wrapped his arms tighter around Leon’s skinny waist to prevent himself from falling ass backwards. He thought he heard Leon laugh, bright and sunny, but it was hard to hear anything over the roar of the engine. Their helmets cracked together as he ducked his face into the barrier of Leon’s body, and then Leon teased at the throttle and they were flying.

Elliot was still very much attached to his old, dead car back at the garage, but _this_. This was a freedom and a rush like he’d never gotten from any fucking drug. Leon’s waist in his hands and the powerful thrum of the engine below him: the dizzying dip of the bike as they rounded corners. Teasing death at every car they swerved around, Elliot’s knee inches from the asphalt as Leon took a hard turn. Belatedly, he realised he was grinning. 

Too soon, they were pulling to a stop outside of Allsafe, and it took a minute for Elliot to unclench all his muscles to let go of Leon. When he pulled his helmet off, he was still grinning, and Leon’s face lit up when he saw.

“Into it?” He asked, kicking the stand out before getting off the bike. He was graceless with it, too gangly to really be anything but, but Elliot liked it.

“It was fun.” He said, shrugged one shoulder and bit his lip to contain the smile he could still feel tugging at his mouth. Adrenaline thudded through his veins, washing the dread of losing his car from him. 

“You wanna do it again some time?” Leon asked, and Elliot felt so blindsided by how he just came out with that that he blinked, opened his mouth. Shut it. Leon was smirking, lazy and assured. 

“Yes.” Elliot said, before he could psych himself out like he would have a few years ago. “Yeah. I would.”

Leon’s smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. Elliot flushed, looked down at his feet to lessen the weight of it a little. “You free Friday?”

“ _Yes_.” Elliot said, quick enough that he began to feel embarrassed by it until he caught Leon’s eye, felt the full wattage of that smile again. Hesitantly, he smiled too, and Leon threw his head back and laughed, grinned to the sky.

\-----

Leon picked him up on his bike on Friday night, handsome and all in black, and Elliot felt a silly rush of giddiness as he approached. Leon was standing by his bike, tall and lit sporadic by the flickering streetlamp above them. 

“Alright?” Leon asked, like Elliot wasn’t practically shivering apart out of nerves and anticipation. His full mouth parted in that slow smile, and Elliot found himself returning it with little hesitation. It felt alien, but good.

Leon’s leather jacket was cool under his hands as he wrapped his arms around his waist, but when Elliot’s fingers curled in the cotton of his t-shirt, Leon was warm, safe. Silently, Elliot thanked whatever dubious gods had got it in their minds to have his ever-faithful car break down on that day. 

They spiralled up through the streets like nothing could touch them, the gaudy, bright lights of the city streaming past them like comets. Elliot wanted to laugh, wanted to throw his head back and drink in the feeling of being so weightless, so free, a warm body to his chest and the smell of leather in his nose. As the city dropped down below them, the lights spacing out until it was just them and velvet darkness, Elliot felt some knot in his chest unwind. Like the pressure of too many people, the of the expectations of the world had been blown away in their slipstream. 

He felt drunk on it. On the adrenaline, on the way Leon felt under his hands, on _everything_. 

Leon stopped at a little looking out point just outside of the city, close enough that the lights still stained the sky a sickly orange but far enough away that Elliot felt good taking a huge lungful of air. The night felt fresh, like opportunities opening up, and Elliot felt itchy with it. Leon took his helmet off, shook out his dreads before peering up through them with a half-smile tipped haphazard across his face. Elliot returned it.

A bottle of bourbon was produced, and the two of them took a seat on the grass overlooking the city, passed it back and forth a couple times. Elliot lit a cigarette, and didn’t miss how Leon watched him as he lit it. 

“Is this trashy?” Leon asked, suddenly, a trace of amusement in his voice. He tipped the bottle for emphasis, the contents sloshing. “I always come here.”

“Drinking outside _is_ for kids.” Elliot admitted, and then inclined his head. “But growing up is overrated.” 

Leon smiled, big and warm. “True that.”

Elliot’s mouth tasted like honey and cigarettes, the bourbon a satisfying burn, and he wondered if Leon tasted the same. He felt warm and loose, bare bicep pressed up against the cool leather of Leon’s jacket. When he shrugged it off, some time into their liminal first night, his skin was warm, like burning. Elliot thought, drunkenly, that he’d let himself get burned up by Leon at any cost. 

“Why here?” He asked, and laid back into the cool grass like it’d wash the flush from his cheeks. He threw his arms above his head, felt his shirt ride up and left it like that, feeling oddly daring. Leon’s eyes on him were a heady pressure, and he watched through heavy lidded eyes as Leon took him in slow.

“”S nice to see the city from another angle.” Leon murmured, and laid down next to him. The beads in his dreads winked in the low light, and Elliot found himself captivated by them. He tried to remember the last time he’d felt so at ease around another person, and came up blank. Even Angela made him anxious, these days. No fault of her own, really, but she liked to micromanage and Elliot had never been good at letting that happen to him. 

“I guess it is.” Elliot breathed, head close to Leon’s, eyes full of him. Leon stared back, a smile tipping his mouth lopsided, before he extended a hand to cup Elliot’s jaw and pull him closer.

Bourbon and honey, the slight pressure of his deft, capable fingers against Elliot’s skin. Elliot felt himself melt pliant into the touch, into the press of Leon’s mouth to his own.

“Is this okay?” Leon murmured, and Elliot dragged his mouth back to his, drunk on it. He kissed him, tender slow, fingers curling in his dreads as Leon opened his mouth under his. The grass tickled his cheek, the sounds of the city muffled from the distance, and Elliot felt like he could live inside this bubble they’d created for themselves. The smell of fresh grass, the cool evening air, Leon’s warm hand on his waist, curving Elliot’s body into his own. Elliot’s t-shirt was washed thin from use, his favourite shirt, and he could feel Leon’s hand like he was touching his bare skin. He shivered at the thought, kissed him harder, bold. 

Leon was bigger than him, hands rough from work, smelling like leather and oil and cologne. Elliot felt dizzy from it, and he broke away to reorient himself, didn’t miss the way Leon’s thumb rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“You good?” Leon murmured, and Elliot nodded, eyes closed because if he looked at Leon now he knew he’d let him do whatever he wanted. The usual background hum of his anxiety was quieted, made dull by the press of Leon against him. 

“I’m so good.” He murmured, because Leon’s silence prompted it. “Yeah, I’m great.”

Leon’s thumb dipped into the hollow of his hips, and he murmured, “Kiss me again?” So Elliot did, over and over until his lips felt swollen from it. Leon made small noises against his mouth, involuntary, hand on Elliot’s hip, warm against his skin where Elliot’s shirt had ridden up. “I promise I didn’t have an ulterior motive, bringing you up here.” He said, voice low and amused as Elliot broke away from his lips to mouth at his jaw. Leon’s breath hitched in his chest as Elliot ghosted his teeth over his adam’s apple, and his hand tightened in Elliot’s t-shirt. “But you just looked so-”

“It’s okay.” Elliot said, propping himself up on his elbow to take Leon in. His eyes were hazy, lips well kissed, and Elliot kissed him once more for good measure. “Maybe _I_ had ulterior motives.”

Leon laughed, turning his face into the grass as his eyes dropped closed. “You’re full of surprises, Elliot.”

Elliot stared at him, his profile a smudge through the darkness, and wondered how he looked through Leon’s eyes. Someone capable of being surprising? Was that an awful thing?

“Good surprises?” Elliot asked, the bourbon loosening his tongue. Leon tilted his head to look at him, smiled.

“I think so.” He murmured, and touched his fingers to Elliot’s cheek, gentle.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!!


End file.
